1. Tell us about your witch and the powers she has.
My witch’s name is Amelia. She is a white witch, a Wiccan, who was born able to see auras. Over time she learned how to use her ability to heal people, using energy medicine, like a form of reiki, to remove their bad energy. Her hands have always been the conduit of magic for her. Amelia’s skill with energy healing is put to the test when a pandemic sweeps the globe. She can see the terrible infection killing, then changing, people. And that magical charge from her hands seems to have a unique effect on the diseased who are now roaming the earth. As I say in my tagline, “harm none, and be ready for zombies.”
2. Where did you get the inspiration for your character?
When I was younger, I was very interested in Wicca. I studied the religion and its roots. As a scholar, I’ve given professional presentations on the rhetoric of the religion. I really admire the Wiccan religion and way of life. I imagined Amelia as a teenage devotee of the religion, but someone also very naturally inclined toward magic, someone who had special skills that were brought out by her relationship with the religion. In terms of energy healing, I once had an energy healer work on my back when I was having very serious problems, and she really worked miracles. I’m a firm believer in its effectiveness.
3. If you had a magical ability - what would it be and why?
The possibilities are endless! I’m going to go with telepathy. So many problems can be solved if you just knew what in the world the other person was thinking. How many times I look at people and wonder just what in the world is on their minds, good or bad.
4. Who is your favorite TV or movie witch?
Sally & Gillian Owen from Practical Magic. I loved the white witch appeal and how they made magic look sexy, fun, and not dangerous (unless you’re a bad guy). I really want to own Sally’s shop. I can see myself selling herbal soap in the daytime and writing books all night. Blissful life!
5. If you had a familiar what would it be (you can choose any animal) and what would you call him/her?
I would have Thora, the dog in my novel “Highland Raven.” Thora runs across Andraste, a dark goddess, who calls her Graymalkin…the name one of the weird sisters calls her familiar in the play Macbeth. I have a thing for dog sidekicks. Cricket has Puck. Gruoch has Thora. I need my own black dog!
Thank you so much for having me!
By Melanie Karsak
Witch Wood is a tie-in novella that compliments The Harvesting Series, an award-winning dark fantasy/zombie mashup, by Melanie Karsak. Witch Wood can be read as a stand-alone or as part of The Harvesting Series.
Harm none, and be ready for zombies.
In the little town of Brighton, Amelia’s practice of Wicca marks her as a curiosity both at home and at school. But Amelia can’t change what she is. Knowing how to see auras, heal, and cast spells comes naturally to her. Only Madame Knightly, the ancient matriarch and owner of Witch Wood Estate, to whom Amelia plays caretaker, doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, the crumbling old mansion is full of oddities.
However, when modern treatments fail to make a dent in the flu outbreak sweeping the globe, those who once ridiculed her white witchcraft turn to Amelia for help. While her eucalyptus tinctures prove no more effective than western medicine, her spell-casting is another matter. The residents of Brighton soon depend on the very magic they once ridiculed to save their lives.
The Harvesting Series: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B015PRL9UM/
Witch Wood: http://amzn.com/B011AF4WL6
The aura around Mrs. Delaney had faded from vibrant green to dull, sludge-colored green-brown as the last class of the day wore down to its end. Despite the fact she was still standing at the blackboard lecturing, a patient smile on her face, her energy told another tale: she was about to drop. She turned and jotted some notes on the board. I noticed that the chalk tray had left a white line of chalk across the back of her black skirt in a none-too-flattering spot. I hoped the boys wouldn’t notice.
“Witch,” a whisper came from behind me. “Amelia…hey, witchy woman.”
Nate must have gotten bored. Instead of just texting like everyone else, he was about to launch into his tired barrage. I ignored him, hoping it would dissuade him, but pretending he didn’t exist rarely phased him. He was the glowing center of his own universe. Other people’s perceptions didn’t matter to him.
“Ah-meel-ya,” he chanted. “Witch, why don’t you let me put some sex in your hex.”
I looked at Zoey who was sitting beside me in the next row and rolled my eyes.
I was so over with this day. With half the class out sick, Nate—hipster extraordinaire and total douche—was running low on girls to hit on. Jenna and Sam, who sat behind Zoey and me, usually acted as a buffer. For some reason I never understood, they both liked Nate’s attention. But they were both absent. If I didn’t know it would come back on me tenfold, I’d cast a spell to silence his disgusting mouth. But I was a good witch, Glinda without the bubble, and I had no business casting hexes.
“Rhyming? I didn’t know you were that smart, Nate,” Zoey, who was less patient than me, shot back.
“Logan, you smell fish?” Nate whispered to Logan who sat beside him. “Zoey, close your legs.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Logan. A newcomer, Logan had moved to Brighton at the beginning of the year. I could see him and the soft purple and indigo glow that always surrounded him.
Logan shifted uncomfortably then frowned at Nate. “Don’t be a dick. Sorry, Zoey. Nate doesn’t have any manners.”
Nate laughed. “Whatever. Oh, Edward Cullen, you’re such a gentleman,” Nate teased him. “Like Zoey and Amelia even matter.”
Since he first started school, Logan had always lingered on the outskirts of Nate’s tribe. It seemed that he wasn’t actually a jerk like Nate and his friends. And then there was the other thing about him that set him apart. He was an A student, too busy actually paying attention to what Mrs. Delaney had to say in class to be a jerk. And today, Mrs. Delaney’s lecture focused on Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
I scanned around the classroom. Of the less than a dozen students in class, half of them were on their phones. Mrs. Delaney was explaining—mainly to the board at this point—the meaning of the witches’ chant in the play.
“Hey, Amelia, can you brew me a love potion to get Jenna to suck me off?” Nate whispered.
“Could you be any more disrespectful?” Logan chided just as Mrs. Delaney, who’d finally had enough, turned and faced the class.
“In the back…shush. Now, someone tell me, which goddess is said to have been insulted by this play? Anyone actually paying attention? Which goddess cursed Shakespeare’s work?”
I glanced back at Logan through my long, wheat-colored hair. Most days we would race to be the first to answer but not today. The last thing I wanted to do was draw more attention to the fact that I knew about witchcraft. While I’d been practicing Wicca since I was thirteen, the year I stumbled across a used copy of Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner by Scott Cunningham in a used bookstore, I’d always been different. Being Wiccan meant promoting peace, protecting my environment, and feeling at one with the Great Mother. The idiot behind me, however, didn’t know the difference between a devil worshipper—which I was not—and Samantha from Bewitched. And I wasn’t in the mood to explain to him that I only performed good magic, earth and healing magic.
“Zoey?” Mrs. Delaney called.
“Sorry, Mrs. D. I zoned.”
“Of course. Amelia?”
“I…” I began, then glanced up at her. Mrs. Delaney was, by far, my favorite teacher. In the ninth grade, she’d introduced me to Madame Knightly, the owner of Witch Wood Estate, whom I took care of three nights a week and on weekends. I was eternally grateful for the job. I’d already stashed away enough cash to pay for my first year of college. Just the week before, I’d gotten my invite to Claddagh-Basel College for an admission interview. It was really happening. I was going to study Psychology at one of the best schools in the country. And all that had happened because Mrs. Delaney, who kept crystals on her desk and wore a medicine bag around her neck, had seen something in me that the others had ignored. “Hecate,” I said then. “Hecate is the dark goddess named in the play. The editor’s notes said that Shakespeare got the Weird Sisters’ chant from a real witch and that Hecate cursed the play because of it. Some productions remove Hecate just to get rid of the jinx.”
“Exactly. Well done,” she said with a smile then glanced up at the clock. My eyes followed hers.
Thank the Goddess, the day was done.
“All right, class. Please review King’s essay on the use of symbolism in the play and compose a two-page summary.”
“You’re kidding, right? School’s gonna be closed next week,” Brant, a football player, grumbled from the front row—where his coach had mandated he sit.
“Are you really asking me that?” Mrs. Delaney replied, frowning at him. I could see her aura growing even darker, sadder. She really needed to get out of here. “Thus far, they haven’t announced a closure for Monday. Yes, we’re the last school in the county still open. But still, read, write. It won’t hurt you.”
A moment later, the bell rang.
“Whatever,” Brant grumbled under his breath then headed out the door.
“Let’s get out of here,” Zoey said. Rising, she stuffed her book into her backpack.
Nate pushed past. “Sorry,” he said as he pretended to trip, banging his crotch against Zoey’s butt.
“Screw you, Nate. Do that again, and I’ll have Amelia cast a spell to rot it off,” Zoey warned him.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Freaks,” Nate said, glaring from Zoey to me, but I couldn’t help but see the look of fear cross his eyes. He wasn’t sure if I could really do something like that. In the end, it was better that he didn’t know I would never, ever practice dark magic. Harm none and do as you will, that is the motto of Wiccans. I wasn’t looking for trouble to come back to me.
I dug into my bag. “Almost forgot,” I said, handing Zoey as small, amber-colored vial.
“What’s this?” she asked, looking at the bottle.
“Eucalyptus and rosemary oil,” I replied. “Put it in your bath or on a cloth to inhale it. It helps keep your respiratory system clear. Should help ward off the cold going around.”
“Thanks,” she said, opening the bottle to take a sniff. “Ooh, my nose is burning.” She giggled.
Logan walked up behind Zoey and me. “Hey, Amelia…you’re organizing the Halloween dance?” he asked.
His dark hair fell over his black-rimmed glasses. He pushed it back then paused to arrange his scarf inside his heavy winter pea coat. For autumn, it was terribly cold and the reports of flu were already out of control. No wonder he was bundled up. His honey-colored eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled at me. My knees went soft.
“Uh, yeah. We’ve just started planning. We’re still working on a theme.”
“Ms. Flynn says I need another extracurricular. Mind if I help?”
“If you want,” I replied, trying to play it cool when inside I was screaming like a tween at a Justin Bieber concert. “The next meeting is Tuesday at six. We meet down at Studio,” I said, referring to the local coffee bar where Zoey worked. When I wasn’t at Witch Wood, I spent all my time there, especially when Mom was at work. The last thing I wanted was to be penned up at home with my stepdad, Larry.
“Great. I’ll be there,” he replied then looked at the vial Zoey was holding. “So, a white witch? For real?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, I know, it’s weird, but, it’s just, you know…” I said, trailing off. It’s just what, Amelia? You’re a witch. Own it.
Logan raised an eyebrow at me.
“Yes, I’m a white witch. I do healing and stuff. All-natural lifestyle. That kind of thing.”
“Dude?” Nate called to Logan from the door.
Logan grinned at me. “You do protection spells? I need one. My sister got that flu. She was puking all night, and I hate being sick.”
“I do,” I said then arched an eyebrow at him. “You really want me to—“
“Go for it. Please.”
“Okay then. This will just take a minute.” I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and then tried to envision the energy field, the aura, surrounding him. I envisioned white light passing from me to him, surrounding him with a glowing white energy that would protect him. With my mind’s eye, I inscribed this light with a protection rune that glowed with glimmering blue light. In my mind, I chanted:
“Goddess Mother, may this light protect him from all harm.
May this light keep away all illness.
May this light keep him safe from darkness.
May this light bring him peace.
So mote it be.
With thanks, I pray thee.”
I exhaled then opened my eyes. I could still see the white light shimmering all around him. “Done,” I said then smiled.
Logan grinned. “That easy? Cool. I feel much safer now. Thanks, Amelia. See you next week,” he said then headed toward the door.
“What were you doing?” Nate asked Logan.
Logan shrugged off the question, not answering, and they headed down the hall.
“God, I’m crushing on him so hard right now. That was awesome. You should have seen how he was looking at you. Lu-st!” she said, emphasizing the last word in sing-song. “But I don’t get it. Why in the hell does he hang around with Nate?” Zoey asked as she pulled her long black and mermaid blue tresses out of the back of her jacket. They tumbled down her back to her waist.
“Their parents are connected or something,” I replied. “Brianna and Brian said their dads work together. And he’s new. He doesn’t know better yet. You heard him call Nate out. He’s not like them.”
“Well, he’s definitely into you,” Zoey said as we moved toward the door.
“Na. I’m just a curiosity.”
“Did you even register what just happened? All guys secretly dig the weird girls, but I think Logan actually likes you.”
“You think?” My heart slammed in my chest.
“Guess you’ll find out Tuesday.”
“So mote it be,” I said with a wink.
About the author:
Melanie Karsak is the author of the bestselling series The Airship Racing Chronicles, The Harvesting Series, and numerous other works. She grew up in rural northwestern Pennsylvania and earned a Master's degree in English from Gannon University. A steampunk connoisseur, Shakespeare nerd, white elephant collector, and zombie whisperer, the author currently lives in Florida with her husband and two children. She is an Instructor of English at Eastern Florida State College.
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S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland.
“Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.”